Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Tango	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 18416 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
So, of course, this chapter wouldn't be possible without two special ladies: LondonsLegend and LightofEvolution. LondonsLegend has broadened my vocabulary and beta'd this chapter to perfection. LightofEvolution gave me the best little zinger for Malfoy to use in this, and she's listened to me ramble about my ideas. Without them, this chapter would lack. So thank you so, SO MUCH!
Thank you for all of the love and reviews. For those waiting on HTTYA3, it's coming. I just have a competition and a fest to submit before I can pull my full attention back to a major project besides this one.
This chapter...it could be my favorite one yet. So much Dramione interaction. Lick it up while you can ;) This is "Dessert."
~A.
"Dessert is like a feel-good song, and the best ones make you dance."
~Chef Edward Lee
Center Stage: (DRUNK!) Hermione and Draco
Setting: Diagon Alley, after hours
Hermione giggled into her ice cream sundae, thoroughly drunk off her arse inside Diagon Alley's premiere Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour.
It started with shots at the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione insisted she didn't need to drink, but Malfoy threatened to tell the entire pub she was single if she didn't, and so she took down three shots of firewhiskey, chasing them with a butterbeer. Then, it became a challenge to see who could stomach the rich aromas of the Leaky's oldest bottle of scotch (paid for by Malfoy, of course). It became apparent to Hermione that she was not the heaviest of drinkers, but rather a lightweight, when she had to lean on Malfoy's shoulder to keep her balance as they stumbled out onto the street and begged him for ice cream.
And here they were.
Malfoy sat across from her, staring down at his butterbeer flavored ice cream cone with satisfaction. In the last three hours, they'd managed to tuck away their quips and one-liners for hearty conversation and an avid love of liquor. And, if Hermione were being completely honest with herself, she would admit this was much better than getting laid by a man she had basically no chemistry with.
"It probably would have been an awkward shag, anyway…" she muttered, digging into her sundae and scooping up a bit of banana.
Malfoy paused, tongue still mid lick as he cleaned the dripping ice cream from his fingers, looking at her with a stunned expression. "Pardon?"
"Hmm?"
"What about an awkward shag?" His eyebrows quirked in amusement as he trailed that dangerous looking tongue up his ice cream to the top. Once it was securely back in his mouth, Hermione's brain began to function again, and she realized, in horror, she'd said her thoughts out loud.
"Nothing." She bit into her banana to avoid having to say anything else. Her head still swimming with alcohol, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the numbness in her face and the delicious taste of the fruit.
But Malfoy wouldn't let it go. "You really were thinking about shagging him, weren't you?" He gave a few more good licks to his ice cream cone, the last one seemingly suggestive. "S'alright. We all go 'round the bend every now and again." With a shrug, he went back to tonguing his treat, making Hermione press her legs together dare he sense her sudden arousal.
Damn it, hormones. Not helping.
"Why do you suggest I've 'gone 'round the bend?'"
"Because you and I both know Diggle isn't your type."
"Oh, what would you know about my 'type'? You hardly know me."
"I know plenty." Malfoy pointed his ice cream at her. "Others see us better than we see ourselves, Granger. It's a fact." Even drunk, his articulation was impeccable.
"Care to enlighten me?" With another bite of her sundae devoured, Hermione kept the spoon in her mouth to keep from practically drooling at the way Malfoy lapped at the frozen delight in his hand. He paid her no mind for a moment, concentrating on his ice cream in a way that made him seem ravenous for it. She rested her chin in her hand as she propped her elbow up on the table, thinking to herself how simply marvelous a drunk Malfoy was. So uninhibited, uncaring to be proper. Squeezing her legs together even tighter, she cleared her throat and plucked the spoon from her mouth. "Malfoy?"
"Hmm?" He peered up at her.
"I asked if you'd care to enlighten me - on how others see me."
"You're intelligent enough to know that on your own," he mused, smirking and swiping his tongue over the waffle cone. "Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Biting your lip."
Hermione realized her teeth were, indeed, wrapped around her bottom lip. She immediately released it and stuck the spoon back in her mouth. "No 'eason."
Malfoy gave a shrug. "I think the question you should be asking is what do you think of yourself."
Hermione sighed, spitting the spoon out and crossing her arms. "I have horrible taste in men. Or, rather, I can't seem to find one I get on with - one who understands me. Do you get what I mean?"
He nodded noncommittally as he bit into his waffle cone, signalling for her to continue.
"I really thought this was it, you know? A good and proper gentleman with ruggedly handsome good looks who I could hop in bed with." Her cheeks burned bright, but the alcohol loosened her tongue, encouraging her. "But it seems like all I do is muck up the wrong sort of men. He couldn't keep up with me in a conversation at all. He was boring and didn't listen to my point of views. Oh, but he was a nice fellow... I don't understand it."
"Understand what?"
"Why all these men are smitten."
"All these men?" Malfoy smirked. "Someone's feeding her ego, isn't she?"
"Oh, hush it. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Ron. Charlie. Greg. I just don't understand why they all can't," Hiccup, "See me for who I really am."
"And...who are you, really?"
Under her breath, Hermione whispered, "We both know I'm just a plain girl."
As if that sobered him up, Malfoy sat his nearly devoured ice cream cone down on the edge of her icecream sundae bowl and leaned forward, elbows hitting the table. "I wouldn't exactly call you plain..."
Their eyes met. "What would you call me?"
Malfoy mulled it over. "You have a symmetrical form...unique facial features." His eyes trailed over her face, studying it.. "Little button nose." He reached out and booped it with his finger. "Really, it's no surprise. And you've got a mind to match your drive. It isn't that you're attracting the wrong sort of men, is it? It's just that you aren't noticing the ones on your level." He touched his finger to her forehead. "See?"
"Thank you, Malfoy…" Hermione swatted his hand away playfully, rolling her eyes. "That was... kind of you. You're very sweet."
"I'm very drunk."
"Yes, I can see that." They both gave cheesy, mocking grins - it was only when Hermione glanced down that she noticed he was sliding her bowl toward him. "Hey!"
"You weren't eating it," he said defensively, jerking it into his clutches with one quick movement.
"Someone has a sweet tooth," she commented. "We can share."
"The Hell we can."
"Malfoy! It's my sundae!"
"Granger! It was my gift to you. I can take it back as I please." He plucked up a new spoon from the cup next to the condiments and scooped some whip cream off of the top before dipping it into his mouth.
"As your designated Appar...para...Apparat…"
"Apparator?"
"That! As your designated that I demand you pay me in my sundae and stop trying to hoard it all for yourself."
"At this rate, neither of us are getting home...not that I'm complaining about not going home…" There was a sadness etched in his tone as he scooped up more whipped cream.
Hermione nodded, understanding. She hadn't wanted to pry earlier this evening, but this seemed like a prime opportunity to voice her curiosity. "I take it flowers didn't woo your sweetheart?"
"To Hell with wooing Astoria." Their eyes caught. A faint dust of pink scattered across his cheeks. "What I mean," he said, "is that...we aren't...I mean…we aren't speaking to each other at the moment."
"Oh." Hermione would be lying if she said her interest wasn't piqued, but a shred of humility left her feeling sad for him, despite the sudden joy that pinged her her heart. "When you say you aren't speaking…?"
"I mean we literally aren't speaking to one another. Every time I enter the room, she leaves. Even Madame Mystique is beginning to notice."
"Your wedding coordinator?" When Draco threw her a curious glance, she added, "She's one of the most sought after coordinators in all of Europe. Stop giving me that look."
"Does someone have their eye on a wedding coordinator for her imaginary, non-existent wedding?"
To spite him, Hermione snatched his nearly devoured ice cream cone and swiped it across his nose, leaving a trail of drippy cream. "At least my imaginary, non-existent fiancé is speaking to me in my dreams."
Malfoy rubbed the tip of his nose. "Lucky you." He scooped up a big dip of ice cream with his spoon, aimed it at her, and launched the treat; it landed with a plop onto the side of her neck.
"Draco!" she gasped.
"Ooh, looky. Someone knows my name." He smirked, loading another scoop and bending the spoon back.
"Don't you dare."
"Should I aim for your eye? Or maybe your hair...might be an improvement."
"I'll have you know, it took me two hours to get my hair to look so relaxed." She began wiping her neck off with her fingers, realizing in her drunken stupor how improper it was. To safe face, she licked her fingers off and dabbed them with a napkin. Malfoy's eyes followed her hand until she was through, and only then did he comment again.
"You don't look like you when your hair's all...like that." He waved his hand at her hair as if it offended him. Perhaps it did.
"Greg said it looked lovely."
"Greg also has the stylish capacity of a homeless man. One with nice dress shoes."
"I'm confused. Are you trying to give me a compliment or insult me?"
Narrowing his eyes, Malfoy refused to answer. Instead, he produced his wand and levitated their unfinished treats into the bin. Hermione's stomach dropped. Damn, damn, double damn. Or would that be triple damn? Oh, she was too drunk to care.
"It's getting late," he said, reaching into his pockets to produce an antique timepiece. "Really late. Or early, by some standards." He turned the face of the watch over to her; the time read just a quarter past two in the morning.
"Do parlors usually stay open so late?" Hermione gasped.
"They do if you pay them obscene amounts of money," Malfoy smirked. It was then she noticed the entire shop was void of customers, sans them. How had that gone over her head? Maybe because she was as boiled as an owl... "Come on, Granger. Pip, pip."
"Ginny says pip, pip. Just where are we pip piping?"
"One: don't ever say that again. Two: I have no bloody clue." He shimmied out of the booth and offered out his arm to her, in proper pureblood fashion. "Shall we?"
"But where-"
"Granger? Do us all a favor and shut your mouth." A cheeky grin spread across his face, eyes fixated on her lips for half a second. "I've been waiting to say that for years…"
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed the heavy yawn escaping from Granger's mouth as she walked beside him outside of the Leaky Cauldron on the muggle side of London. To his credit, Draco hadn't instantly scoffed at the idea when she suggested trying a pub off of Charing Cross Road. Honestly, the idea of seeing the inside of a muggle establishment fascinated him, though it felt perverted to think so. All his life, he'd been taught to hate the very existence of those non-magical, but the War had changed his perspective. Not that he went around fraternizing with muggles, but people like Granger had come from them, and so they couldn't be all bad, could they? Brightest witch of their age, indeed, besting him in classes and making him feel a fool. Still, if he hadn't been motivated to try harder, he might not have cared at all. Young Draco thought he had the world on a string, and that world revolved around his beck and call.
How wrong he was.
After another round of drinks, they stopped at the fountain in the center of the square, admiring its three tiered waterfall and large basin. Muggle whiskey tasted like shit, and it felt worse resting in Draco's stomach mixed with all of the concoctions brewing around inside. His head spinning, he suggested, "Maybe we take a breather here?" He motioned to the edge of the fountain.
"Mmh, sounds good to me." Granger plopped down without a second thought, giving another drawn out yawn. She was dressed in a pair of shorts and black blouse, all transfigured from her sultry evening dress, but this way, the clothing complimented her much better. Not that she hadn't looked good before - this just...said: Granger. Her hair had also become frizzier through the night, indicating that whatever she had put in her hair to relax it was losing its battle with her curls. As the evening progressed, she looked less like a sexually charged vixen and more like the tame kitten he knew her for. But, just like kittens, she had claws that he had to avoid, if he wasn't careful. Not that he wouldn't mind a few scratches down his back…
Shit. No. Stop it.
"Soooo…" She patted the spot next to her, grinning up at him. "You taking a seat, or do I have to drag you into the fountain kicking and screaming?" Her face was completely red from the alcohol, accenting her freckles. She kept wetting her lips every few minutes or so with her tongue, making Draco's heart rate skyrocket. And she was doing it now.
"I'd goad you, but I think you actually would do it," he said, taking a seat next to her but trying his very best to keep a fair amount of distance between them. It only left room for her to place her hands on either side of her, fingers spread out and so close to his own. To rectify his urge to touch them, he reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, locking eyes with her instead. Double shit. "What?" he blurted out.
Granger simply smiled, giggling, "I'm thinking."
"Dangerous."
"I'm thinking about why you don't want to go home." Damn it, there was the lip licking again. Did she even know she was doing it? Or was it just out of habit? She wanted to know why all the men wanted their hands in her knickers? This. This right here. Granger tilted her head and leaned back, forgetting there wasn't a backing to support her. She slipped and nearly fell in if it hadn't been for Draco's Seeker-like reflexes, his hand instinctively reaching out and bracing her. Granger leaned her head on his shoulder, scooting to shorten the distance between them into mere inches. "Thanks."
"Mhmm…" He couldn't muster out much else. Not with her words swimming around in his head.
"Why don't you want to go home?"
"What's the point?" He thought about shrugging her off, but she felt so warm and cozy against him. And, besides, they weren't doing anything wrong. They were just sitting at a fountain, for Merlin's sake. He'd done far more with Pansy back in Hogwarts when they weren't even dating. He supposed he could have a...friend...like Granger. Couldn't he? Was that allowed? He thought back to the friends he kept in touch with since beginning his dating adventures with Astoria. Come to think of it, he didn't have that many female friends...Daphne. Pansy, even though they'd fallen out of touch. Millicent, but Merlin knew she wasn't a looker like Granger. There wasn't ever a possibility of him accidentally fantasizing about Millicent Bulstrode…
"Don't you," another yawn, "want to talk to her?"
"Of course I do. But talking to Astoria this last week has been like talking to a muggle portrait. Besides, she's not the entire reason I don't want to go back to the Manor."
That got Granger's attention, because she glanced up at him through long eyelashes and asked a silent 'why' with her eyes.
"My mother's visiting," he admitted, prying his gaze back down to his hands to avoid staring too long at those tempting eyes of hers. "We don't get on right now."
"Because of Astoria?"
"Because of my father's company. He passed some time ago…"
"I remember," she said softly.
"I inherited the company," Draco continued, fearing that if he paused he might choke on the lump in his throat; he didn't like dwelling on his father's death. "But my mother has been running it in my absence. She thinks now that I'm to be married, it's time for me to settle down and take stock in the patent industry." He physically shuddered at the thought.
"What's wrong with patents?"
"They're boring."
"They're what make businesses go-round."
"Yeah? You want it so bad, you take it. It's yours. I'll sign over the company to you tonight and wash my hands clean of it."
With a giggle, Granger whispered, "Narcissa Malfoy would poison me on day one."
Smirking, Draco replied, "Probably." Granger snuggled in closer. "Are you cold or something?"
"A little," she admitted, eyes still closed. Draco peeled her off of him long enough to shimmy off his blazer and wrap it around her shoulders. "Thanks," she said, laying her cheek against his shoulder again. "Too drunk...to perform a heating charm…"
"Too drunk for a lot of things," he mused. "Like staying awake."
"I'm awake." Granger yawned, face sliding down his arm. Before he could dispute her actions, she'd curled up with her head in his lap. "Just resting...my eyes…so if you don't want to do patents what do you want to do with your life?"
Her cheek rested comfortably against his firm stomach, which only stimulated the blood flow down into the lower extremities of his body, including one certain appendage. Fucking hormones...why did they care so much what Granger smelled like (apples and vanilla) or looked like (a sleeping goddess) or how close her face was to his prized package (no room to adjust)?
"My mother asked me the same question," he muttered, focusing on anything else: The Red Hat Society, banshees, moldy bread - anything but how close Granger's lips were to his crotch.
"Mmm…" The vibration of her voice sent heat jolting into his groin. "What did you tell her?"
"I said I didn't know what I wanted to do." By the gods, he hoped she didn't move around any more. She'd instantly know his lower-half's opinion of her in a heartbeat: his, the one pulsing through his cock.
"Well, what are you interested in?"
That caused him to pause. "I...I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before." He thought about it, thankful he had something to keep him distracted. "I enjoy theoretical alchemy...and potions."
Granger stretched like a cat and burrowed her face into his stomach, muttering, "You did have a talent for it…What would you make?" Her curls spilled all over her face, making it impossible to see. Without thinking, Draco reached down and began brushing them out of her eyes, noting how soft she was from her skin to her hair to the gentle way she breathed.
Draco thought some more. "I was working on this...this mood enhancer. I tried to balance out a Euphoria elixir by toning it down with Draught of Peace."
He knew it wouldn't take Granger long to put two and two together.
"An antidepressant."
"Something to calm my nerves after the War," he spoke quietly, still brushing invisible strands out of her face. Okay, maybe he was just stroking her cheek. He did the same thing to Blaise's cat. It didn't mean anything.
"I think Harry and I could have used something like that," she said, her eyes prying open just a smidgen to glance up at him. "You said 'was.' Why did you stop?"
"Astoria..my time got eaten up with this blasted wedding." He gave an anxious sigh. "And I thought I was doing better...but here I am, getting piss drunk just like when the War finally ended."
Granger, to her credit, reached up and felt around for his face, missing it by a few inches and instead patting him on the shoulder as she shut her eyes again. "If you decide it's what you want to do, I know a man in research and development at the Ministry." She grumbled, sliding her hand down, grabbing his, and forcing it into the petting motions across her cheek like before. "Don't stop. Feels nice…"
With a roll of his eyes, Draco obliged. It didn't take long until he felt her relax completely and fall into an intoxicated sleep. Yawning, he still let his thumb glide across her cheek as he considered her offer.
At one time, he had thought about going into Potions as a career, but then his father died, and everything changed overnight. As he worked his lower lip between his teeth, he mulled over various theories he had regarding the potions he'd been working on. It was only when Granger, after some time, mumbled something in her sleep that he was pulled from his thoughts. He glanced down quick enough to read her lips and hear her mutter, a second time, "Mm, Draco...like that...Jesus…"
Draco? Had she said his name in her sleep? No...he must have heard wrong…
"Bite me," Granger whispered, wriggling in his lap while reaching over and fisting the bottom of his shirt. "More, Draco…"
No, that was definitely 'Draco.'
Bite her? Just what was she...was she fantasizing about him?
A wicked idea crossed his mind, and, in his drunken state, he didn't try to talk himself out of it. He reached down, fished his wand out of his blazer pocket (careful not to wake the fantasizing beauty) and whispered as he pointed the tip against her forehead, "Legilimens."
He stood in an ice cream parlor much like the one they visited this evening. On top of one of the booths, Granger was sprawled out wearing nothing but a pair of lace panties and a smile as a dream version of himself, sans shirt, licked whip cream off of her neck.
"Mm, bite me," she muttered, arching her exposed chest up to entice him. The real Draco took in the sight of her breasts, pert nipples begging to be caught between his teeth. Merlin, who knew Granger would have such a nice rack? He had to stop himself from taking a step forward inside her mind. No...he didn't want to make himself known.
"Like this?" the dream version of him asked, clamping down on her shoulder with passionate intent. Draco noticed how husky and masculine his voice sounded in the fantasy. Heh. Well, at least he was sexy anywhere he was.
"More," she pleaded, digging her fingers into his hair and arching her spine. The dream Draco chuckled, slipping hungry kisses down her throat before trailing his way to the valley between her breasts to tease her. His nose brushed against one nipple, and then the other, drawing the moment out. "Draco…"
"Ooh, look. You know my name," he teased, dipping his head forward and capturing one of her breasts in his mouth.
The real Draco swallowed hard, trying to pry his mind away. But he couldn't. The word 'diet' slammed against his subconscious over and over, but he ignored it.
As dream Draco kneaded and sucked on dream Hermione's breasts, the table was beginning to magically fill with plates of desserts around them. There was even a can of whipped cream, to which the fantasy version of himself applied a generous line of to Hermione's stomach and began feasting all the way down to the top of her panties.
"I've been so good, Hermione," he heard himself say while dream Draco brushed his nose against her covered clit. "I deserve a treat, don't I?" He set the can down and hooked his thumbs underneath the sides of her underwear, tugging them down over her hips. Hermione lifted her bum up, making it easier to pull the garment slowly down her legs and toss them behind to the floor. There, dream Draco stared down at his prize as the real Draco licked his lips, a bead of sweat dripping down his brow.
"Eat as much as you want," she whispered, spreading her legs wide and guiding his face between them again.
"If you insist," he smirked before diving in. From the angle the real Draco stood, he couldn't get a good look at her quim before dream Draco began licking it into submission. It was odd watching himself, but arousing, nonetheless. He watched the look of euphoria on Hermione's face as she leaned back against the tabletop and panted, gripping fistfuls of dream Draco's hair while moaning.
"Fuck, Draco...gods, yes. Eat me...lick me…"
"Mmm, my favorite snack," he whispered between flicks of his tongue.
Draco Malfoy pulled himself out of Hermione Granger's mind, mouth salivating and a craving between his legs he couldn't help.
"More…" Granger moaned quietly, still fisting his shirt.
Draco sighed, tucking his wand back inside his blazer draped over Hermione, careful not to wake her up. Then he began stroking down her cheek again, noticing the way her lips curled up in satisfaction.
So...Granger harbored a crush on him. The young, immature version of himself would have logged this bit of information away to tease and taunt her about later. But the older, mature Draco, with his throbbing erection and conflicting emotions toward the brunette in his lap, wanted nothing more than to slip into that dream again.
Damn it. He was going to have some major blue balls in the morning.
Things are heating up between our pair? How the Hell can they endure this kind of torture? XD
~A.
- 13
- 14
- 15
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Tango